


Marble

by SherlockianGirl14



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, suicide TW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 20:37:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5305982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianGirl14/pseuds/SherlockianGirl14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel's funeral had been a week and a half again and since then he had visited the cemetery every day. Dean had tried getting him to stop the visits, but it was to no avail.<br/>"Hey," he whispered to the dirt, "it's me again. I still miss you. I love you a hell of a lot, you know that? Why did you have to leave me, Gabriel?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marble

Sam knelt down, not caring that his jeans were going to get covered in mud. Who gave a damn about that when Gabriel was dead?  
Gabriel's funeral had been a week and a half again and since then he had visited the cemetery every day. Dean had tried getting him to stop the visits, but it was to no avail.  
Sam glanced up at Gabriel's tombstone, sighing in angrier at the words written. Gabriel would have hated them. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was staying still and getting bored. The words inscribed on the costly marble headstone sounded an awful lot like an awful lot of that.  
'In heaven he rests, at peace amongst angels.'  
Sam had tried to fight with Mr. Novak on it, but what was the point? He didn't have the strength to argue.  
"Hey," he whispered to the dirt, "it's me again. I still miss you. I love you a hell of a lot, you know that? Why did you have to leave me, Gabriel?"  
Wiping the tears away roughly, he punched his own leg in disgust at himself. No crying allowed. Gabriel shouldn't have to see him cry.  
Besides, he didn't deserve to be allowed to let it out. He let Gabriel die.  
Reaching into the bucket by his side, he removed a box of matches, a two litre bottle of water and a bottle of nail varnish remover. He'd bought them all on the way over, the remover being the first flammable thing he could find in the store. The only other thing left in the bucket was the rope.  
"I wanted to do this here. Don't know why really. They didn't want me to keep it. I don't even remember how I managed to persuade them to let me. I guess a guy loses his boyfriend like that, FINDS him like that, and they'll do most anything to keep that guy sane. Dean's been keeping it from me, though. I wouldn't let him untie it, either. I wanted to burn it the way you left it, didn't want it changed until then. One of the last things you touched, besides that pen and paper. I made Dean throw the pen out, don't know why. I read that letter every night, though. I have your voicemail recorded on my phone because your bank got frozen while they try to work out a bill, so your phone contract is out and I can't call you. I got all our pictures printed out. Yes, even that one you know I hate, the one that was your lock-screen," Sam laughs, but seconds later he's crying even harder. "I miss you, Gabe, okay? So, I guess I should burn this now. That was what I wanted to do today. It killed you. That and your head. I- I had them bury you with a little bottle of serotonin, you know. Sounds silly, right? But I wanted you to be happier in the afterlife, if there is one."  
He sighed, unscrewing the lid and emptying the bottle of nail varnish remover into the bucket, wrinkling his nose at the pungency of it. Striking a match, he dropped it into the bucket and watched the rope go up in flames.  
Pretty soon it became clear that the bucket was a dumb idea. The smell of burning plastic hit him and he stood up, taking a couple of steps back. At least there was nobody else around- Tuesday mornings, apparently, weren't a popular time to visit cemetery. Everyone else was probably at work. He should be too, really, and he thought to himself that he was definitely going to quit his job at the roadhouse.  
"So, uh, if you're in heaven I hope you're happy. I hope it isn't like your dad thinks it should be. If you're nowhere, then I suppose at least you're not in pain any more. If you're in hell you'd better be partying with all those sinners like you said you would! And if you... If you've been born again then I'd better have you on my doorstep sometime telling me you had a vision from your past life and you wanted to meet me, okay?" Sam smiled sadly, wiping his tears once more. "I love you. I- I know you told me to try to keep living. I mean, you also told me to try to move on from you, but I can't do that. But I think I'm going to try for you for a while, okay? To live, that is. No way am I booking up, got it? I'm gonna try to live. Now, though, I'm going to out this fire out because all the rope's burnt and that smell is fucking awful."  
Sam sighs as he douses the fire in water, wiping the sweat of watching the fire from his brow.  
Sitting back down in the dewy grass at the foot of Gabriel's grave he waits for the bucket to cool a little before tipping out the greyed, ashen water. The bucket wasn't totally cooled yet, and Sam's hands stung a little, but he didn't care.  
The plastic inside was gnarled now, and there were flecks of ash seared into it.  
Sam sighed, trying to get enough clean air into his lungs to rid himself of the smell of burning. Sniffling slightly, he bent down over the tombstone, dropping a gentle kiss onto the smooth marble.  
"I love you, Gabriel," he whispered, as he did every day. "See you tomorrow."


End file.
